


Tunnel Snakes Rule

by anenenenome



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-06-13 16:21:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15368493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anenenenome/pseuds/anenenenome
Summary: Magdalena and Butch traipsing through the Wastes, one Vault Dweller only slightly more ignorant than the other.





	1. Chapter 1

The jacket on his back felt heavy. Sometimes he felt as if Paul was still wearing the jacket, a dead weight on his shoulders. Then Butch would get pissed off at himself for ever thinking of Paul as a dead weight.

Paul had been his best friend. Sure, he used to be friends with Wally but it was different with Paul. He was a nice guy and even though everyone took him to be stupid, Butch still thought he was the smartest person he ever knew - even smarter than Nosebleed. He couldn’t shake the thought that Paul was going to die even when he slept. Paul’s pained moans haunted him during work, meals, and then when he sat at his bedside. Wally had began to come around, donning his Tunnel Snakes jacket once more but it didn’t last long. Paul’s days were at an end.

He remembered how naked Wally looked he stormed out of that clinic in a fit of rage, leaving Butch and Paul behind. They'd never gotten along but the law of the gang was "Tunnel Snakes for life" and Wally had broken and spat on it. He’d almost ripped the snake entirely from the back of his jacket. After a shout and a tear that confirmed that, yes, even Macks had feelings, he left Butch and Paul alone in the clinic.

Butch was surprised at his own lack of reaction. He hadn't punched him, yelled, or anything. He only sat there, gripping his friend's hand wishing he could bring Paul back with the sheer will to pass his own life on to him. Paul, Wally, Mags, his mom. They all left him. Tears stung his eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall.

Freddie wore that jacket now. It was a size too big and the stitching Butch had done to reattach the top half of the snake was sloppy and the wrong color, but they'd both decided it was a symbol of defiance for him to wear Wally's jacket. It was like a gazelle wearing the skin of a lion (whatever those were.). Also, Butch didn't want to part with Paul's jacket even though he would never admit it. No DeLoria was ever sentimental over shit like that.

His own jacket rested bulky and roomy on the shoulders of the girl who saved his mom’s life. Everything in those moments from when he saw her sprint down the corridor to save his mom to when she killed Officer Kendall screamed at him to follow her to the outside. He knew that after the doc and his kid were gone, life in the Vault would never be the same. Then, he looked to his mom. She was still nursing an entire fucking bottle of vodka, but injured nonetheless. He thought that maybe if he stayed and took care of her she’d finally care. She’d see that he was willing to abandon everything for her, therefore she should do the same. So, in an attempt to soothe the hurt he saw in Magdalena's face, he slung the leather over her small shoulders.

“Take care of it,” he said.

He hoped it was still in her possession. He didn't care if the stitching he so lovingly slaved over was faded, frayed or even ripped straight out of the leather. He didn't give a shit if the leather was discolored or chipping. He just couldn't bear to think of someone else holding that sacred article of clothing, wearing something that meant the world to him. But then again, why’d he be so scared of that? One: he’d never see her again, two: DeLorias weren’t sentimental. Also, she was probably dead. Thinking that always struck a chord, though, so he usually pushed that thought away.

Still, however much he cared about her well-being, he was pissed off at her for leaving him. She was one of two actual friends he ever had and the only one who knew just how badly he wanted to leave the Vault. He was pissed off at himself, too, for once again letting the thought of fictitious and unobtainable motherly love controlling his life once more. After the apartment door had shut behind Mags, his mom was cursing at him for sending a girl in to save her. So much for a happy ending.

A few days after she and the doctor left, the rebellion started. Everything got worse from there. What little remained of he and his mother’s relationship was gone. His best friend was dying, Allen Mack was the new Overseer, Wally left him in the dust… All he had left in the world was Magdalena and the Tunnel Snakes and neither felt whole when one was absent. She left, though, oblivious to what he would feel like and just how much he cared.

When Amata sent out the distress signal, his soul had left his body for a couple of seconds. Sometimes when he thought about her, he was filled with the inexplicable urge to fucking break something. Only, now there was a chance, however slight, that Nosebleed would come back and be kick ass and fuck up shit for Mack and spring him from this hellhole. This time he wasn’t letting an opportunity like a free ride from the Vault slip through his fingers.

He made a rough sketch of the cafeteria that day, complete with the “Tunnel Snakes rule!” and “FUCK YOU, OVERSEER” graffiti. Suddenly he wondered whether she’d think it was stupid. People always told him he cared too much about what other people thought but he didn’t really, not until now. She’d seen the outside and coming back would probably think they were all acting like children. The worst part was, he cherished the huge sign in the cafeteria like it was his actual fucking kid.

It was the star of his fondest memory after the radroach attack. He and Freddie had planned for three days. They eventually realized needed three people and just so, it fell to Christine Kendall herself to help them spray paint the sign. She was getting weird, a little too snoopy for Butch, but when she volunteered to find some black paint, he smiled. She actually proved to be quite useful when it came to “finding” pretty much anything and therefore became an honorary Tunnel Snake. And, as it turns out, she wasn't one of the Overseer’s spy like he’d formerly thought. She was in the same boat, after all. She was starved for something better just like the rest of the Tunnel Snakes.

Now, the the door to the clinic was opening, revealing a woman wearing some kind of mask, dark green with a few dark splatters on on the hood part of it. Blood, probably. The jeans she wore were tight on her legs and a grayish t-shirt was tucked into the waistband of them. She was wearing Vault issued boots. She took long strides towards Amata and held her hand out.

“Before we continue, I’m calling a truce, Mata,” she tilted her head to the side, almost mocking Almodovar. “Sorry I killed your dad, I guess.”

Butch's skin felt like it was buzzing, and not because their only chance at hope was a complete bitch, but because with her back now facing him, he could see a snake hissing at him on her jacket. It looked taken care of, loved even. There was no sign of the stitching being actually damaged and only one rip in the leather on her right side from what he could tell. She’d gone and taken his word to heart.

"Magdalena,” Amata spat.


	2. Chapter 2

"I won't make any promises." Magdalena said after Amata was finally done with her big speech about her “rebellion” against the Overseer. She and her dad always tried to make an unnecessary show of importance, "If he pulls a gun on me, though, he is going to die."

"Just try and talk for once." Amata said in a soft tone. She twitched, something she used to do when Butch and Wally backed her up in a corner.

Mags' face flushed under her mask. "You're naïve,” she snapped, “ I am going to kill him if he pulls a gun, simple as that."

"How have you let your sense of self-preservation outweigh your humanity?" She was tearing up.

"I have no humanity if I am killed either. Besides," She snatched her mask off and stuck it into the pocket of Butch's jacket, "Who will come to your rescue if I don't make it out today?"

"Just go do what you have to do," she sidled away from her, eyeing her hand, "And try to keep your finger from the trigger."

Mags had been idly stroking her 10 mm while listening to Amata. It helped to calm her nerves and right now, as much as she hated to admit it, Amata was right. She didn’t need any more Vault-issued blood on her hands.

She turned away, silent. She needed to think before she could do this. She wouldn't regret killing him if she had to; he was always a fucking asshole to begin with and almost got her killed while trying to leave the Vault. she just wanted to prove something to Amata, although she had no idea what.

Her old apartment was a wreck like everything else. It was dirty and one of the legs on the bed was broken. The drawers had been pulled from her chests and their minute contents spilled across the floor. Someone thought she’d been hiding something.

She sat with her back against the bed holding her mother's verse from Revelations. She’d found it amongst the wreckage, the frame splintered and the glass broken. Still, the paper inside was only missing one corner and her dad had several--three, at the very least. This one she could pin up in her bedroom in Megaton. She wished she could see him just one more time. She wished that there had been nothing more important to her father than living a normal life in this Vault. If only Project Big Fucking Mistake hadn't existed.

Their lives here would have been better. She could have lived here and married Butch so that they'd become a unity of hated peoples of the Vault. Their children might carry on the tradition of bullying and being bullied. She could gossip with her naive shithead best friend and continue to act like she wasn’t a condescending bitch. The only really bad thing was that the Overseer was a domineering misogynistic jackass but hey, aren’t we all?

Okay, maybe she didn't want the vault back. She just wanted her father to be alive and well. And she wanted to end the bullshit “war” in this bullshit Vault between these bullshit factions.

She walked back down to the clinic. Everyone stared at her as she sat down behind her father's old desk with mistrusting eyes. She began to toy with the bobble head that she'd given him as a gift one year on his birthday. In the corner, there were two people wearing Tunnel Snake jackets, one of whom kicked himself from the wall and made his way over to Mags.

"Look who's come waltzing into the vault," he paused. "Nosebleed." Theatrics had never been his thing - he usually fell short and was merely melodramatic but she had to give him credit for this one.

"Hey, Butch," she kicked her feet up. She wondered if she could pay Allen enough, whether he would step down. Probably not. Bottle caps were worthless here.

"You here to fix daddy's mess?" He said in a low, gravelly tone.

"Hop off my dick, DeLoria," She felt an angry twinge in my stomach. She could lay him out right here, right now if she really wanted to. Fuck friendship; she still owed him for twelve years of misery. “I don’t need your shit.”

Butch furrowed his eyebrows, “You don’t need my shit?”

She glared up at him. She came to save all their asses and this is the thanks she gets?

“Last time I checked, we’re all in this fucking mess because you and your dad never fucking belonged here in the first God damn place.”

“My father was an invaluable member of this vault and you know it. Or haven’t you heard about the incident with Beatrice?” Magdalena was shocked by her lack of pity or sadness when she found the woman laying in a pool of her own blood, her face frozen in shock, droplets of blood painting her expression red. She felt as cold and oblivious as Andy who was also completely drenched in red. At least for once she felt clean.

“Invaluable is fucking right, Nosebleed. We didn’t need him.”

Mags snapped out of her thoughts with a grin. She intertwined her fingers and rested her chin on them.

“Butch, that means he was very much needed. That he was mandatory to the survival of you fucking shitheads.” she snorted, “I wouldn’t expect you to know that, though.”

He looked genuinely hurt and she started to feel like a dickhead. Not like she was going to admit it or say sorry or some other dumb shit like that. She bit back the impulse to make fun of him for the wounded look on his face.

“You saying I’m fucking stupid?

“No. Just saying you need to sit down with a book maybe. Like that book we read in primary, Fun with Dick and Jane. That’ll help improve your vocabulary, I promise." 

“You’re a fucking bitch.”

“We’ve only just started talking and you’re already running out of things to say? I’ve got to say I am disappointed.”

“Run out of things to say? I’m holding back on you. You guys left this place a fucking mess and you come back to help your girlfriend clean it all up?”

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” she felt a rush of anger. It was odd but she wanted it to be clear that she didn’t care about Amata, even though it really didn’t matter to anyone. “I came back because I wanted to stop hearing that stupid broadcast.”

“You stopped looking for your dad because you forgot how to turn the dial on your pip boy?” He snorted, “You hit you fucking head out there or something, Pipsqueak?”

“I didn’t stop looking for my dad,” she gritted her teeth.

“Yeah well I sure don’t see him anywhere.”

“Stop talking about him,” she picked a cuticle, “It’s not like he’d come back to help you fuckers anyway.” That wasn't true. He would have come at a moment's notice

“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter to me. I’m leaving the first chance I get.”

She smiled a real smile. He talked about it for years, leaving and the Tunnel Snakes dominating whatever was left of the world. If he left, he would die before he reached Megaton. She thought it was cute, though, in the way a little kid said they wanted to be the Overseer of the Vault so they could change the diner menu.

“Amata doesn’t believe you."

“I’m gonna fucking show her.”

“Imagine. If you stayed you’d be bullied by Amata Almodovar.”

“That teacher’s pet? Hell no,” he snorted, “Besides I don’t give a shit about this Vault anymore. Not like it ever gave a shit about me.”

She was within inches of asking whether he meant “Vault” or “mom” but he’d forgotten about being an asshole for the time being so she kept quiet. Besides, talking about his mom was a cheap shot to take.

“I thought she’d care, Mags,” he whispered.

She looked up. She should’ve guessed he was just putting up an act again. Why’d he bother acting tough if he was going to fall apart before the ten minute mark?

“I thought she was going to be happy that I stayed with her but... but all she could talk about for days was the fact that you went in to save her and not me," he sniffled and turned to her, "Then after that she moved on to talking about how stupid I'd been for thinking staying with her was enough."

His blue eyes glistened in the dim lights. He sniffled softly and looked directly into her eyes. He looked embarrassed, and she couldn't blame him. She was embarrassed for him, even though she couldn't look away. He clenched his jaw and jerked away in the least graceful way possible, knocking his head on a locker. He called out in frustration and people were looking in her direction.

Her stomach twisted under all of the eyes. Butch was blushing now.

"So I guess you really are leaving." Mags said curtly, changing the subject.

“Yeah, I'm getting out of here quicker than you could fucking blink.”

He hoisted himself up onto the desk. She scrunched her nose up at him. “Don’t sit on my dad’s desk.”

“It ain’t his anymore. He abandoned it with the Vault.”

“He had his reasons, Butch!” She yelled.

Everyone was staring again. She could feel the judgments hurtling at her from where she sat. Eventually, Amata shrugged and turned away, everyone following her example. Well all except for Christine, who was still staring at them. She glared at Magdalena, bringing back warm memories from the good old days when she and Susie would pounce on her every insecurity. Now, she was just making her nervous.

“He had his reasons,” she turned to Butch, speaking in a softer tone. “When he left it was for the… best of the Wastes. He was going to make their lives better.”

“He still fucked this place up pretty good.”

She looked back up and met eyes with Christine. She scoffed.

“What the hell does she want? Are you guys dating or something?”

“Why do you care? Rethinking something?”

The only “something” he could’ve meant was her ripping his valentine during the second year of secondary. The hurt on his stupid fifteen-year-old face almost made me say sorry. How was she supposed to know he wasn’t making fun of her?

“I knew you’d regret not kissing me back.”

She choked on her snarky comment about the valentine. A few days before her dad opened the Vault door, Butch kissed her in the clinic. They were smoking cigarettes after curfew talking shit about everyone and then he leaned in without warning. It was the set up for a cheesy teen romance novel except she didn’t kiss him back. She was surprised he’d even think about kissing her in the first place. She wasn’t new to this, hell, she wasn’t even a virgin. For some reason, Butch just made her feel like one. He looked hurt, even more so than that one Valentine's day. She didn't care though, not then and definitely not now.

“I didn’t even remember that.”

“Yeah, right. Everyone remembers when the Butch-man kisses them.”

Amata turned back around to give her a pointed glare. Mags resisted the urge to throw something at her or even point her pistol at her to get her to fuck off. She stood from the desk, hoping that Butch didn't catch how longingly she ran her fingers over the top of it.

“I’ll see you when I leave.”

“Hey,” Butch caught her by the arm, “Teach Mack a fucking lesson.”

She laughed. Mack was going to die, there was no doubt in her mind. He was brash, angry, and ruthless, just like his sons. She killed one of them. He knew that. He was going to want to try and kill her and she couldn't blame him. 

“Yeah, okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shit quality of this. I wasn't feeling it but I posted it anyway because it has been on my laptop for too long.


	3. Chapter 3

   Butch remembered when he first found out what going too far really meant. He was eleven and giving Amata and Mags shit like he always did. They were getting a little angry and Magdalena was starting to square up when Butch said something stupid about Amata’s mom. See, when he gave Mags shit about her dead mom, she never even winced. It was as if it really didn’t hurt her at all. He knew it was all over when Amata began to tear up faster than usual. He recognized the hurt in her honey colored eyes. For a split second, he debated whether or not to ruin his “reputation” and say sorry but when he opened his mouth, Mags decked him smack in the nose.

   Going too far with her now wouldn’t just mean a broken nose anymore, but apparently, Wally hadn’t gotten the memo.

   He was leaving the clinic to smoke so Amata wouldn’t nag at him for it. He’d gotten so far as the first unfinished locker barricade when a fight broke out down the stairs. Wally was yelling and Susie screamed but he didn’t know who was fighting because even though Wally was a dick, he’d never lay a finger on his sister.

   Then, feeling stupid for not realizing before, he ran down the stairs to save Magdalena’s sorry ass from whatever trouble she was about to get into.

   When he rounded the corner, he slowed. He stood in the doorway to the diner, completely useless. Wally was bleeding from his nose and backed up against the bar in the diner and Mags was glaring down at him.

   “What the fuck are you doing?”

_Smooth, Butch, she’ll listen to that. A real voice of reason._

   “None of your business, DeLoria.”

   “Leave him alone, Magdalena. Our dad’s the Overseer.” Susie warned.

   Butch almost laughed.

   “Remember what happened to the last Overseer who threatened me?” She spat.

   That comment was a little harsh but it seemed to have the blonde backing off. Wally, however, spit at her boots. A gob of blood ran down the worn leather toe.

   “Those are Vault-issued boots, bitch.”

   She laughed, “I pulled off a dead Vault dweller somewhere south of here.”

   Wally’s face twisted, “What, the atrium? That ain’t much south, bitch.”

   “South doesn’t mean down,” she kicked him in the stomach. The boy doubled over to the left, “I guess you _are_ still as stupid as you were when I left this hellhole.”

   “Mags, you’re not dealing with _all_ of the Macks,” Butch cut in.

   She turned to him and sneered. He could take that, just as long as she stopped kicking Wally. He was trying to sit up again, the bull-headed idiot he was.

  “Why does it matter to you what I do to Wally? He obviously doesn’t care about you and he isn’t your fucking mom.”

   “What’s that supposed to fucking mean?” He felt himself shouting and stepping forward. He wasn’t going to win a fight against her. Magdalena Vargas, the skinny girl who cried when he pulled her pigtails in primary was now able to kick his ass and for some reason, it didn’t shock him.

   “You aren’t stupid, you know what I mean. Just back the fuck up, okay? It’s not like I’m going to kill him or some stupid shit like that.”

   “Like you’ve never said you would.” Wally snorted.

   Fucking idiot. She turned to him and brought her leg back. She slowly stepped away, eyes wide, as if she was having some sort of revelation. “Just get the fuck out of here.”

   “What’s wrong? Too pussy to finish what you started?” Wally prodded.

   She walked out the door, brushing past Butch.

   He followed her once again useless. He didn’t need to follow her but he knew she was going to see the sign. His perfect work of art. He wanted to see her reaction first-hand.

  “What are you following me for?” She asked, not turning around.

  “I’m not following you, Nosebleed.”

   She snorted and jogged up a flight of stairs. One more turn and she’d be able to see it. Then she stopped. Butch almost slammed into her but he stepped away from her at the right moment. She spun around, staring in his eyes.

   “What the hell, Butch?”

   “I’ve got to go places, too,” he shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets.

   “Butch, you shouldn’t do anything until it’s safer. Freddie almost got shot today and I don’t think they’d hesitate so much with you.”

   He smirked, “When did you up and start caring so much about me?”

   She just scoffed in response, but he could see the blush coloring her dark freckled skin. She crossed her arms. “It isn’t like that. You were my friend and I don’t want to see you die.”

   The “were” in her sentence hurt more than it should’ve.

   “Amata was your friend and you don’t seem to care too much about her.”

   “She hates me, Butch. You would too if I killed your mom.”

   “Sure,” he shrugged, “Now you gonna let me pass, or what?”

   “No.”

   He glared down at her. She was still small. Probably five foot and a half. He was six foot, having grown a bit since she’d left. He had a height and weight advantage but he was slower.

   “Are you really sizing me up right now?” Did the radiation actually give her super powers? Could she read his fucking mind?

   “I just want to get through the door. You don’t have to worry about me.”

   “Damn it, DeLoria, just go back. You and your stupid rebels are going to have a fucking field day when I’m done.” 

   He was being a stupid kid. He could see it in her eyes. It was how Brotch used to look at him in class. He didn’t get it and they weren’t going to try and explain it because he was a waste of time.

   “Fine, whatever.” He spun on his heel, “Fuckin’ Nosebleed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol


	4. Chapter 4

     She stared at his body. His torso was shredded by her assault rifle. She should’ve been kinder and put a bullet between his eyes with my 10 mm. Then she wouldn’t have had to watch him struggle to breathe as the color drained from his face.

   The circle of glass of the Overseer’s window was sprayed with blood. She did it again. Now Susie and Wally had not only lost their brother because of her, but also their father.

   What a piece of shit she grew up to be.

   She searched his desk, finding a few rounds of 5.56 and grabbed a few Stimpacks and the assault rifle from Mack’s body. While stuffing them into Butch’s jacket, she felt like an animal. That’s how they would see her, too. They wouldn’t see her as their savior—who she most certainly was—they would see her as a murderer. Again.

    Amata will finally take up in her father’s footsteps like she was meant to.

   After pulling her gas mask back on, she slipped out of the room, Mack’s assault rifle strapped to her back; she was hoping to use some of the parts to repair Dez. She jogged down a flight of stairs, gripping Dez, trying not to drop her from her shaky grip. 

   She spun around, looking at the sign again. “Fuck you” was spray painted over the “thank you”. Why did they need to paint over the “you” in the sentence? She knew this had something to do with Butch, judging from the Tunnel Snakes graffiti littering the rest of the Vault in the same exact paint.

   She laughed out loud. The Overseers were most definitely fucked.

   She looked back at the door. The last flight of stairs before she faced Amata for one last time. After that, they would never talk again. At least, she hoped not.

   Butch was standing at the bottom step. He was smoking, but not inhaling. What a big baby.

   “Are you waiting for me or something?”

   “You fucking wish, Nosebleed,” he snapped. He flipped his lighter open and closed impatiently. Evidently, he was still mad for not letting him follow her. What a kid.

   She rolled my eyes, “Anyway, I’m guessing you were the one who tagged the sign? Nice one, but I’m betting Amata’s your Overseer now.”

   He paused and looked down to her. There was a crinkle between his eyebrows.

   “Amata isn't going to be too happy about the sign....” She trailed off. The joke was hardly a joke. She didn't even really get it herself.

   He didn’t take the bait. He just searched her face for some explanation. Slowly, realization flooded his face.

   “You killed him?”

   She sighed. “I mean, I guess so. But what does that matter, right? Now you guys won’t be in so much danger and hopefully Amata will let you guys trade with Megaton or something.”

   “What does it matter?” He repeated. “It doesn’t. I ain’t sticking around much longer.”

   “When?” She asked, watching him take a puff from his cigarette.

   “Whenever, Nosebleed. Quit worrying so Goddamn much, you’re giving me white fucking hairs over here.”

   She snorted, looking up at his graying hair, “You don’t need help with that.”

   “Hey,” he warned, a smirk on his face, “Watch it.” Oddly enough, at least for someone like him, he'd always been proud of his grays.

   Mags waved him away, “Whatever, Butchie.”

   His face darkened, “Don’t call me that.”

   She looked down, a little ashamed she'd managed to remind him of Ellen yet again. “When are you thinking of leaving?”

   “Like I said, whenever.”

   “Do you have a weapon?”

   He pulled a 10 mm from his waistband, “I stole it. It’s the only reason they didn’t close in on us before you got here.”

   “That won’t keep you alive all alone in the Wastes. You know how to use it, right?”

   “I’m not stupid. I ain’t gonna wave this around if I don’t know how to use it.” He tucked it back under his jacket.

   She pulled the assault rifle from her back without thinking and held it out for him. He took it in his hands. She pulled the ammo from her pocket.

   “First good gun I had was a rifle like that one. It’ll get you going but you’ll need bottle caps for food,  water, more ammo and medical supplies. Before you leave fill a bag full of that shit. Grab all the fission batteries, prewar cash and conductors you can find; you can sell them for a lot out there. Maybe tag along with a caravan to get to Rivet City. I honestly don’t care what you do, just don’t die.”

   “What about you?” He wanted to follow her again, she could see it. But what if he died? What if he followed her and the person she had become disgusted him?

   “I’m going back to my house in Megaton. It’s a town not even a mile north of here.”

   He nodded, staring down at the gun. She pushed it down and pulled him closer by his leather jacket.

   “Please don’t follow me. Don’t go back until after I’m gone and don’t listen to what Amata says about me. I just want what’s best for you assholes.”

   She tugged him closer and captured his lips with hers. He pulled her closer and wrapped her arms around him. She fell into him, smelling the clean soapy scent of his vault suit and the pomade in his hair. She felt tears begin to prick her eyes. He was staring into her eyes with those pools of dark blue. She wondered what they would look like in the real sun. It didn't matter though.  If she was lucky, this was the last time she’d ever see him.


	5. Chapter 5

   He did it again. He didn’t follow her even though every bone in his body was telling him to. He wished for the millionth time that he could ask Paul for advice.

   He was in his mom’s apartment, tugging his old Vault issued backpack from under a bed he hadn’t slept in since he was sixteen. He needed cheap tech and even cheaper toys. The vault was overflowing with that, and evidently, so was his old dresser.

   Back when he was a kid, he’d steal anything and everything. It was just to prove to Wally that he wasn’t a pussy, but because of it, he became quite the hoarder. He didn’t take any of it to his new apartment because it would look suspicious to carry so much shit even though they all knew he and his ma were broke. Besides, he knew Ellen wouldn’t ever look in it. When he opened it, it was still stuffed with the toy cars, stacks of wrinkled prewar dollars, and odds and ends of tech he’d never knew what to do with. And, if he understood correctly what Mags said, his old bottle cap collection had real value.

   He doubted it. It sounded like a last attempt at revenge on her childhood bully. That, and that stupid kiss. That stupid, weird kiss. It felt so much nicer than he’d imagined what with her lips being chapped to hell.

    He clapped his hands together really loud as if it could dispel the thoughts swimming in his head,

   He ended up only taking a few things from the drawers. A toy truck, a teddy bear, rolls of paper money, and a couple fission batteries. He had it all packed around a rolled vault suit that was protecting his food and stimpacks. He pulled threw the bag onto his shoulder, the toy cars clanking together. He walked through the living room, the noise seemingly louder every step he took.

   “You’re going after her.”

   He jumped, startled by his mom’s voice, but he didn’t turn around.

   She looked dead when he walked in. She was pale, even her lips were white. He grabbed her compact mirror from her room and held it under her nose like he’d seen people do in the movies he watched on vault movie night. The glass fogged and he sighed in relief. Still, she looked so dead that he didn’t expect her to wake up while he was there. He thought that maybe her body was ridding itself of leftover air. After cussing at himself for being so dumb, he just figured she was passed out and she wouldn’t wake up even if some more bombs fell.

   Surprise, surprise, he was damn fucking wrong.

   “You’re going after her and you’re leaving me in this Vault,” when he didn’t answer, she spoke up again in a rasp. “You’re stealing my shit, too.”

   “This ain’t yours, Ma,” he groaned.

   “It is in this apartment, within my walls, and it is mine.”

   “No, it isn’t,” he argued, not feeling the need to explain why the shit in that bag was actually mostly Stanley’s.

    He faced his mom. Now that she was awake, she not only looked dead but… deader. The bags under her eyes were like bruises and she had a cold sore. She was breaking out on the center spot of her forehead like she did when she was stressed,

   “What happened?” He asked lowly.

   “What do you think? Because of you and your little friends, Mack secured all of the alcohol.”

   He sighed, “That stuff‘ll rot you liver anyway.” Also, Mack was dead so there was no reason for her not to run right out and help herself to all the vodka in the Vault.

   “You listening to James’ kid again? Let me tell you something, if James had an ounce of sense, he would’ve stayed here in the Vault.”

   “Why does it matter to you?”

   He face crumpled. Tears filled her eyes, “He cared.”

   Butch felt a flash of anger. She would cry because the idiot fuck doctor left but not for her own son.

   “Well, I’m pretty sure he fucking died,” Mags’ words echoed in his head _. It’s not like he’d come back to help you fuckers_ anyway _._ He would, unless he couldn’t. Mags was a damn liar. That man couldn’t hold a proper grudge if it fell straight into his lap and couldn’t be petty if it socked him right in the nose.

   “Just get out, Butch!” She threw her hands up. “I’m tired of fighting with you! I’m tired of hearing you _talk_!”

   He flinched back. “Yeah, fine.” He slouched as he walked out the door.

   “Did you take it?” She asked in a soft, sad tone.

   He stopped in the doorway.

   “Butch, don’t take it please… I keep it in my room usually but…”

   She was talking about his stuffed bear, he realised. The one she gave him when he was four. It was the last birthday present he received from her. Her jobs didn’t pay enough for stupid things like toys and then when it finally did, she was spending it all on liquor.

  “Yeah, I took it. It’s mine.”

   “Butchie, please.”

   “Don’t call me that!” He strode up to her. He ripped the toy from his bag and threw it at the ground between them, “You don’t have the fucking right to give me a nickname. You don’t even fucking know me.”

   He felt bad, he couldn’t lie. She was his mom, however neglectful and drunk she’d been when he was growing up. Seeing her cry the way she was made him want to cry too but he couldn’t let himself. He realised that his chest was puffed up at her, this frail and small woman. He some part of himself twist painfully deep inside of him. This wasn’t supposed to be her last memory of him,

   His eyes were watery because of all the dust in the old shit in that dresser. His eyes itched so much that a few fat drops were trailing over his cheeks. He wiped at his face and practically ran from the apartment.

   None of this would matter. He was leaving all of that behind for a new life on the other side. He just needed to get to Rivet City and wait for Mags to show up.

   When he entered the clinic, Amata was crying behind the desk. Christine was stroking her hair and Freddie was just staring down at her with wide, confused eyes and shuffling his feet. He caught his eye and Freddie waved him over.

   A groan caught in his throat as he made his way to the desk. Freddie pointed at the bag.

   “You’re going.”

   He nodded, not trusting his voice after he breathed in all that dust. He cleared his throat.

   Freddie stripped off his jacket. He stared at it for a few moments and held it out to Butch. He had a lilted smile on his face.

   “I figure that since there’ll be more Tunnel Snakes on the outside than in here, you better take this. You can start the gang back up with Magdalena.”

   Butch held the jacket in his hands. The stitching was mismatched and sloppy and the jacket was huge. It was Wally’s after all. His eyebrows pulled together in a frown. He looked back to the younger boy, his mouth opening to that he could say something but Freddie was tearing up.

   “Man, don’t do this.” Butch looked around before hugging Freddie. If he got any looks for it, it didn’t matter. He was leaving.

   Freddie choked out a sob, “I’m gonna miss you, Butch.”

   “Yeah, well you still got Christine. You don’t need to miss me.”

   Freddie shook his head, “Womb to tomb. I have to miss you.”

   Butch pushed him back, “You don’t.”

   Christine had stopped paying attention to Amata and looked up to him. When he got a proper look at her, she was crying too.

   “Oh fuck,” he muttered.

   “You can’t leave right now, not when…” She trailed off, “We’re going to rebuild and…”

   “I’ve been planning this since I was twelve. I’m not waiting now, not for this fucking Vault.”

   She winced as if he’d slapped her. “You can’t.”

   “I can. I’m going to,” he couldn’t believe that they were arguing like they were back in primary.

   “Butch DeLoria, I know for a fact you’re just leaving so that you can find Magdalena.”

   “You don’t know shit, Kendall.”

   “I know that you like her. That you think she’s pretty. You think she’s worth leaving your life behind,” she huffed, as if it was simple and plain like an equation from school. “She isn’t.”

   Did he think she was worth leaving life, as he knew it behind? No. He was just leaving to fulfill his one true desire besides… vodka. He wanted to see the world. There was definitely better vodka on the outside.

   He didn’t know how to respond to Christine this time, so he simply looked her in the face and said, “Fuck off,” before he turned on his heel and took a few long strides back outside of the clinic.

   The Vault door screeched a noise like he’d never heard before. He started to bring his hands to his ears but then he thought about how stupid it would look for him to do that. Instead, he puffed up his chest slightly. If anyone were to see him now, he’d look fucking cool.

   Now all he had to do was get to Rivet City, the place Mags marked on his map. Everything was fucking tiny but it could only be as far as this room to the basement if the outside was the same scale as the Vault. Easy fucking peasy, Butch-man.


	6. Chapter 6

Mags never thought she’d eat the leg of a dog. It was just a thought that never occured to her while studying to work in her father's clinic. In all honesty, she hadn’t been sure whether dogs were extinct before a pack of angry ones attacked her during her second night out of the Vault. Either way here she was, sitting in a wrecked building surrounded by debris and super mutant carcasses eating dog while she stroked the dirty, coarse fur of her panting blue heeler.

Among other things she never imagined while still in the Vault was falling asleep and actually trusting her life and more importantly, her caps with a ghoul merc she’d hired from some rotting old fuck in a museum turned settlement.

Charon looked back at her for a few seconds. She could tell he was still trying to figure her out. He never slept near her and never walked in front of her. It worried Mags. If she was shot in the back by him, it would definitely be the most stupid and pointless death she’d been a part of. Well, besides the time her dad died.

She gripped a fistful of Dogmeat’s fur suddenly, earning a yelp and a growl. He nipped at her other hand. She let go of him, allowing him to curl up next to Charon. She gritted her teeth.

Charon was looking at her again.

“I didn’t mean to,” she felt ridiculous explaining herself to a merc under her employment. “I’m just thinking about something.”

He grunted in acknowledgment and patted the spot on Dogmeat’s back that she pulled. He seemed dissatisfied. Was she supposed to say fucking sorry to her dog? In front of him? Hell no. He already seen her talking to Dez, her fucking gun, and he didn’t need to see her as any fucking crazier. She ripped off a shred of meat and threw it to the dog before realising her mistake.

“Fuck!” She shouted, scrambling towards him. Dogmeat happily wolfed down the slightly charred piece of meat.

“No,” she groaned quietly, “No, why did you fuckin’ do that?”

"Just meat,” Charon said.

“It’s dog meat!” She snapped.

Her dog looked up, tail wagging in expectance of another shred of meat. She sighed.

"Not you, boy,” She patted his head. She wasn’t a picky person but all of a sudden, the prospect of eating more of the meat seemed disgusting. Ignoring the protestations of her body she ate the rest of it. She didn’t want to get hungry while walking the rest of the way to Rivet City.

After just over a week of wandering in order to avoid the project that had lead to her father’s death, she was finally deciding to go to Rivet City to get a drink and sleep in a proper bed. Maybe she’d even see Butch there.

Hopefully not. She had quite enough company wih a ghoul that expected her to apologize to her dog and a dog who ate other dogs.

“Would you take first watch?” What was left of his lips twitched like he was annoyed that she was even asking.

"I’m not tired. You can sleep.”

She hummed in response, knowing that he would say just that. He said it every time. That was probably why his lips did that twitchy thing.

She rolled out her thin sleeping bag and slipped into it, boots and all. She would never get used to having to sleep with all of her clothes on but after the time she woke up to raiders discovering her camp, she could get used to it. She wouldn’t loose another pair of boots to the Wastes because she didn’t want to suffer a slight discomfort. She had to walk two miles in her socks, bloodied by the time she reached Big Town and the only boots they could find that kind of fit her were old and torn, the pair Shorty had worn in Little Lamplight. She wore them for a week before she found another pair deep in a Vault on the decomposing body of a teenaged girl. She wasn’t from the Vault. She shouldn’t have been there.

She slept the kind of sleep that felt as if she blinked and really had not slept at all. Her limbs were heavy and mind sluggish in its attempt to catch up with real time. With a pitiful whine she brought her wrist up to her face and checked the time on her pip boy.

_2:00 AM_

The numbers blared green light into her sleepy eyes and further instituted dread of being awake into her dreary joints.

"Fuck," she whispered. Dogmeat perked up and went to lick the remaining sleep  from her face. Playfully she shoved him away.

She kicked out of her sleeping bag and rolled it up tightly. She strapped it onto her pack. She pulled a can of Pork 'n' Beans from her pack.

"Hungry?" She asked, opening the can.

"Not now," Charon replied. The pointed curtness was not lost on her, surprisingly.

Mags sat back down and pulled Dez close.

"Looks like we'll be up and at them early again." She spooned some beans into her mouth, then reached into her bag for the mirelurk jerky meant for the dog.

"I promise we'll get some sleep once we make it to Rivet City."

"I don't mind," Charon snapped. 

Mags blushed, "I was talking to Dogmeat."

"No you weren't."

Mags sighed and leaned back, shoveling food into her mouth. when she was finished, she rinsed the can wi the dirty water and packed it into her bag. she strapped on her bag, tightened her shoelaces, and threw Dez's strap over her shoulder. 

The walk to Rivet City was short, thankfully but every step Magdalena took, she was more and more sure that Butch was waiting at the end of this trek. Dread filled her stomach. She didn't want to see him, not yet.

She was going to sleep in a free bed, a hard cot, until she couldn't sleep anymore. Or so she thought. When she entered the common room, Butch was laying on his side and facing the wall, sleeping. The sound of GNR wafted from his pip boy quietly. Mags felt like she was going to throw up.

She looked around the room for an empty cot besides the one closest to Butch and found none. She steeled herself and laid down on it, pulling her jacket off and folding it inside out to use for a pillow. She covered her face with a sleeve and hoped that when he woke up he wouldn't  notice her.

She didn't get any sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated in a fat minute and I guess today was good a time as any.


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